


The Aftermath

by Winsley



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winsley/pseuds/Winsley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of love, of lost; of hurt, and rebirth. Literally, a tale of the Aftermath of a crushing heart-break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I'm writing currently, please read and review! I plan on using your reviews to critique my writing and hopefully become better; this story is also copyrighted, so please don't take my work for your own.  
> *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity*

The Aftermath:

I remember. I remember my best friend, the love of my life. I remember fun, joyous times between the two of us, separated from the world and all of its woes. This … this string of feeling connected us together. We knew when the other hurt, when they were happy, or away. Always. And, you know that string? It's still there. Through all of this, through all the strife, the drama, the hurt, and the longing.  
I remember times as the way they used to be, when we were both carefree children finding our way in that big world ahead of us. Times were so much simpler, then.

But our reader's don't know the story. And I am the story-teller. I guess I have to start at the beginning, then. Back, far far back, when I didn't even know your name.

This all started in July of some year or another. I was moving to a new school: my house had just been bought and we were waiting on the closing of our new home, but the owners kept pushing the date farther and farther away. We had to live in a grungy hotel for a month, waiting. We were about to give up and rent an apartment somewheres else, when the realtor called and gave us our date: August 28.  
The realization struck, then. August 28? School started ten days before! A new school. New friends. A new home. I would be away from the people I grew up with for the first time in forever. I didn't have anyone, here. This was new terrain, a new place to live and learn in, and I didn't know how to feel about that. Was it a good thing, or a terrible one? I guess I still don't know: some things were good, and yet some things … but I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the story we go!

On August 18, school started. I was sent off in that gray van, dropped off unceremoniously in a towering archway covered in shadows. Oak trees lined the campus, shading everything; crows cawed from the gutters, sensing fresh meat. I clutched my schedule and map of the school in shaking hands and nervously searched for my classes. It took two weeks to become comfortable enough to put my map away; I had my schedule memorized, then. My teachers, although nice enough, were not compensating for my lack of friendship in this new place. I had to go out there and make friends myself.  
But how? I had none of the same classes: I was ahead in my credits as a junior, and had classes from all over highschool, sharing with freshmen up to seniors. I looked anyway, and eventually found someone that had two of the same classes as I: writing and math. I asked her if she was indeed in my other class, and at her abrupt affirmation, I almost squealed with joy. A person I could talk to! But making friends takes time: I was only close with my family at my old home because I had known the lot of them since grade school or before. We all knew our quirks and tells: when to stay away, when to laugh, etc. This was new. I didn't know anybody, here: a fresh canvas waiting for the first lines of paint to be splattered on. I was determined to not smudge the art: I needed friends to succeed, to go on in life. We talked, afterwards, and she took me to lunch with her to introduce me to her other friends: phenomenal! I was meeting people more and more. What I had done the past three weeks was sit quietly and eat hurriedly, making a conscious effort to not look at anyone and just rush off to class with my books and bags. I guess that's why nobody really talked to me. I turned in my work first, never asked questions, and stayed behind to whisper to the teachers if I didn't quite grasp something the first time. Nobody understood me, and I didn't know what to think of them: I was the new kid to them, and they were some strange thing normally seen from a microscope lens to me. I had had no experience with moving and meeting new people prior to this: it was time for a rough wake-up call.  
At lunch I was introduced to a new girl. And she was nice enough, but didn't talk all that much. We exchanged names; pleasantries, and then went our separate ways to other classes. It wasn't until a few days after that first meeting that we felt comfortable enough around each other to actually hold a steady conversation. And at that time, something changed. The girl, Dee, who I was introduced to in the lunchroom had brought another new student with her, so that I wasn't the only one! She sat quietly whilst the girl from my classes, a pretty Filipino girl with jet black straight hair and a compelling smile, Yayi, talked with her quietly, getting her to laugh and feel more at home than a lunchroom. When in a good mood, Yayi had that capability. She could make anyone laugh, and given enough time, could get their life story out just by staring at them and making simple small talk. We found the new girls name was Krissy, and she was something else. She was a Puerto Rican girl that liked to dye her hair. Not outrageous colors, though: she then had light brown with blond highlights that looked like she had been born with it. Her brown eyes could captivate anyone with a look: the were deep and soul searching. She had small lips that easily turned into a smile and a great bellowing laugh that got anyone surrounding her in one of the most uplifting moods.  
She and I became great friends, helping to balance each other out in this sea of unknown. We were both new, here: we had to have each other's backs. In days we learned each others schedules and began to share secrets from our respective pasts that no one else knew about us, whether it was mature or silly. We enjoyed each other's company, and wanted it more and more. Friends was quickly the word associated with that, and even quicker, best friends. We grew intimately close in an insane amount of time, although it wasn't an adult intimacy. It was a platonic love between to close friends that needed each others company more than life itself.  
And it would only grow from there. 

This is the story of the relationship between Krissy and I, throughout the year. How we changed. How we loved. And how we fell apart, and tumbled into that land of in-between, where we became strangers once more that new each other far too well.  
This is The Aftermath.


End file.
